


It started with a kiss

by Annemarie01



Series: Revenge is a dish best served cold [1]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: A Lot of Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, But there is a silver lining on the dark horizon, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Romance, Sex, memory realted issues, non canon!!, what else did you expect!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-02-26 09:12:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13232622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annemarie01/pseuds/Annemarie01
Summary: Some kisses are casual. Some are heated. And some can change a life. Picture a hot summer day on the Wounded Coast, with lots of bickering and arguing. And then something out of the ordinary happens... With a cartload of consequences.Inspired by but definitely not based upon A Bitter Pill. Mind you, this tale does not follow the main story of the game. And has a completely different outcome!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This rather short tale has three chapters (thanks in advance for reading!) but many more will follow.
> 
> Enjoy!

Part 1: An unexpected kiss

-

They had been strolling along the Wounded Coast for the best part of the afternoon with no success to speak of. The sun was burning down remorselessly on this hot summer’s day, drenching them in sweat and leaving them thirsty at the same time. Hawke mused that they might as well could stop drinking water anyhow; the liquid seemed to transform in an instant from a thirst squelching ambrosia into an irritating itchy sheen of fluid that stuck to their skin, attracting sand and stinging bugs.

They were searching for a lost Qunari patrol, which was the reason Hawke had decided to bring the whole bunch of their non-fitting group along on this mission. Qunari were not to be mocked with and whatever or whoever had managed to bring them down, or even stand in their way, should be considered even more dangerous than the horned behemoths themselves. She regretted her decision within less than a mile of toiling down dusty trails, and was willing to pull her hair out after a few hours of tracking, if only to shut her friends up.

So far all the dangers they had stumbled upon existed out of sand, rocks, irritating mosquitoes and prickly vegetation. So, by lack of anything else to do, an increasing amount of heated discussions had sprung into life behind her back. Of course Fenris and Anders got in no time entangled in a sizzling row about mages, magic, magisters and lots of other things related to the Maker’s forsaken cursed subject, including the fast growing influence of the tyrannical Knight Commander Meredith. ( _Strange how so many themes of their disputes seem to start with the letter M_ , Marian mused resentfully, _and that even includes my own name. Ugh.)_ They, however, both succeeded in sneering at Merrill (another M) for dabbling in blood magic. The one topic they agreed on, be it for just a short while. But, then again, long enough to bring the Dalish elf near to tears _. Wasted time_ Hawke thought, because their union lasted only for a brief moment, before they turned upon each other once more, leaving her with the task to comfort the desolated petite elf.

She had to admit she sympathised more with Fenris’ opinion, despite the fact both her sister and father had been mages. Good mages. But she had encountered too many bad intended ones, especially in this city, to believe in the total freedom Anders preached. On the other hand, she couldn´t deny the healer had a valid point with his rants against the injustice of locking all mages up, treating them like dangerous criminals and condemning them for no other offence than the simple fact they were born with magic. Nevertheless, she was inclined to pick Fenris’ side, though she was damn well aware, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it, purely because she was badly infatuated with the intriguing and besides that devastatingly handsome Tevinter elf. It gave her a headache, if nothing else.

It didn’t help Aveline and Sebastian almost ended up tearing out each other’s throats about how the latter had taken the fight over his lost throne and murdered family to precious Kirkwall, the city the Guard Captain would defend over her dead body, even though she had hardly heard of the place before the Blight broke out. Her hissed but nevertheless impassioned words left the former prince reconsidering his vows to the Chantry once again and he, on his turn, lashed out at Aveline simply because she had given him the opportunity to question his already wavering choice.

Hawke almost got nauseated. Bah. Taking a decision was so hard to do. Maker forbade you chose the wrong path. Better to cling to old rusted beliefs that brought false comfort and to hold on to stale confidence to avoid the goal you were, deep down, really aiming at. Far better to hide in numb safety than to undertake something that would actually make a difference. _Something like seaweed and crustaceans clinging mindlessly to the hull of a ship_ , she thought grimly, _and if you can blame someone else in the process of doubt so much the better. Just go back to Starkhaven, kick the pretender out of the palace and be done with it, you idiot._ She managed to keep her mouth shut. The upcoming headache grew worse.

And among all the arguments and almost shed tears Hawke had to listen to the sexual tinted conversation between Varric and Isabela. While sounding completely innocent, the two rogues managed to turn a squabble about the length of daggers – knives – whatever, into a vivid picture of the most kinky event in the Blooming Rose. She was certain they did it on purpose, just to harass her.

Hawke knew she should call it a day but stubbornly ploughed on. She wasn’t exactly afraid of the Arishok but appreciated that appeasing him would extend the time of peace and quiet the Viscount so much relished. _I should bring the man along on a nightly trip through his cherished city_ , she pondered sourly, _I could show him the peace and quiet he so much longs for. He would have a heart attack._

They found the Qunari patrol in the end, very dead and surrounded by demons and abominations. They made short work of the ungodly creatures. Against Hawke’s hopes it didn’t stop the arguments; the fight only brought a short distraction before it all started anew. The argues inflamed not moments after the vicious but brief battle was over.

She was about to scream at the top of her lungs to shut everyone up before she’d get the overwhelming desire to kill them on the spot. And above all she stood on the brink of losing her mind when, thankfully, out of the blue they came across a horde of bandits. And very skilled bandits at that, they found out not moments after the attack. These men were ten times more capable than the bands of nitwits that tried to bother them in the streets and squares of Kirkwall. These were hardened smugglers who were willing to defend their illegal profits to the death. It was pure bad luck, or good luck as Hawke saw it, they’d accidently stumbled upon the culprits.

It was a ferocious fight. They had to use all of their skills not to get wiped out. All in all they were only a party of eight, plus one unleashed marbari, against about twenty very determined and aggressive men. (Though one should never underestimate a marbari, especially not an unleashed one.) They almost got pushed back but Hawke never ceased to encourage her ragtag group of mostly bickering comrades and to give the good example herself. To be honest, if only to release her built up frustration.

For the umpteenth time Fenris witnessed to his horror how she hurled herself without thinking about the consequences into the fray. He stopped reasoning altogether and to protect her he followed her without any hesitation, regardless the danger he got himself into.

Out of the corner of her eye Hawke saw the bluish shimmer that engulfed Fenris while he was fighting and, all rows forgotten, she drew strength out of the simple fact he was with her.

And then ...

As if time was suddenly very thick and sluggish, she saw in slow-motion the dagger picking its way to Fenris’ back. His unprotected back. No spell or contra-act with her daggers could prevent the dreadful fact of him getting mortally hit. In a split-second she reacted and dived for his legs. She was just in time; the dagger flew only a hairbreadth over their heads and the sole harm it did was decapitating an embrium-flower. They fell together and rolled over each other a few times in the momentum. Involuntarily she let go of her daggers and he of his sword. She ended on her back with him straddling her. He was glowing bright blue, all of his markings ablaze in a display of anger and shock. In ultimate self-defence, she realised while she looked wide-eyed at his in terror twisted face. His clawed right hand was hovering over her heart. She held her breath, taking in his furious expression. _Try to do someone a favour ..._ Then he seemed to recognize her; at least he stopped glowing and his hand dropped.

They both puffed out a long held breath.

‘What the hell did you think you were doing,’ he growled hoarsely. She tried to smile reassuringly. His rough velvet voice made her shiver and his piercing silvery green eyes didn’t do anything to ease the awkward situation they found themselves in. She found herself in. But, staring at him, she assumed he felt as ill at ease as she did at this discomfited moment. Then again, she couldn’t think clearly. Didn’t even want to.

‘There flew a dagger with your name on it,’ she said meekly, feeling her head spin. ‘It would have hit you if I hadn’t dragged you down. Sorry for having startled you.’

He stared at her and she was upset by the sudden agony in his eyes. ‘You save my live and as a reward I almost rip the heart out of your chest,’ he murmured.

‘I’m not sure about the saving-your-life part,’ Hawke babbled, almost hysterically cheerful, ‘but I think it’s safe to state that I at least rescued you from an injury.’ She knew she should shut up but her mouth rambled on without the interference of her common sense. ‘At any rate this time I did; so I won’t have to patch you up. Nobody has to. No healing, no touch, no magic needed to close some ugly life-threatening wound. Think about the advantage of that!’

No touch. Yeah right. He had made it very clear on several occasions he hated to be touched. And yet here he was, sitting on her frame and resting his hands on her chest, albeit lightly and said hands covered with those damned sharp steel gauntlets. Steel or not, she was mesmerised. 

Around them the fighting had ended but she was hardly aware of it. She was focused on his hypnotising eyes and the wonderful weight of his body on her stomach. At last he got up and helped her to stand also. For a few long stretched moments they kept staring at each other.

And then it happened, as if something snapped.

Suddenly he pulled her into his arms and took possession of her mouth with a mind crushing passion. Her brain shot down, except for the brainstem that became overly active and started to send very hot and disturbing signals to the lower parts of her body. Without thinking she answered his kiss while putting her arms around his neck and waist. In response to her reaction he pushed his frame even more firmly to hers. She didn’t protest. Just the movements of his very skilled tongue nearly gave her an orgasm; the mere sensation of his body pressed into hers made her head run amok, even without a functioning brain, or probably because. Sweat broke out, heated shivers fluttered through all of her body parts. She felt herself getting wet between her legs. She tried not to moan but couldn’t suppress a soft whimper.

As sudden as he had started to kiss her, he stopped and recoiled, leaving her completely enthralled and struggling for breath.

‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured. He turned, picked up his sword and strode away with his long paces. Frankly, he practically stormed off.

Her arms fell down and she almost staggered. She made a heroic attempt at collecting herself.

‘Sorry?’ she muttered. ‘You’re sorry? If this is your way of being sorry, you can be sorry for the rest of your sorry life for my part, you sorry son of a sorry whatchamacallit ... thingy – whatever. Oh bugger.’ She sagged and dreamily regarded her starry part of the universe for the time being. But inevitably the world slowly started to return to reality and to spin in its familiar tempo, although the globe still hung a bit askew and had to cope with some serious hiccups.

Gradually she became aware of the reactions of her companions. They were all staring in various stages and moods. First she encountered an angry glare (Anders), then went through a display of utmost but cheerful bewilderment (Merrill); the queue continued with an as good as blazing red flush (Sebastian) and, after that, a dark stern look (Aveline). Her still hazy gaze lingered for a few confused moments on a dazzling beam (Varric). And, to top it all, she came across a very hot if not igniting look (Isabela). Her hound just barked. It almost sounded appreciating, like a doggish thumbs-up.

‘I must say, that was one hell of a show! What was that all about?’ the dwarf enquired breathlessly.

Hawke’s brain was still a little foggy. ‘Beats me. He insisted I have saved his life,’ she mumbled. ‘I think I would do that any moment again. I mean with such a reward and all.’

‘Weeel,’ Isabela cooed, fanning herself with her hand, ‘if his performance in bed is even half as good as his kissing, I wouldn’t hesitate one second to drag him between the sheets. You lucky bitch. Go after him!’

And that brought Hawke definitely back in the here and now and the cold, though still stifling heat of the present. She shot the pirate a venomous look. _Bloody wench._ ‘And have my heart ripped out after all?’ she sneered. ‘He was obviously not thinking and is, as we speak, beyond doubt very busy with regretting his action. We can look forward to at least three days of heavy brooding.’

‘Not to speak of moping,’ Varric agreed, ‘glowering and sulking. And don’t forget fretting. In other words, there will be al lot of bad mood and probably worse temper.’

‘Don’t let yourself being carried away,’ Hawke grimaced. Her look became a little clouded. ‘I don’t know about you,’ she said to no one in particular, ‘but I could use a drink. Desperately so.’

‘To wash away the taste?’ Anders offered, rather tetchily. She glared daggers at him but didn’t reply. She just turned and marched determinedly off to Kirkwall. The Hanged Man couldn’t come in sight soon enough.

-

Halfway the city she changed her mind. Her lower brain kept nagging, or better, screaming at her and shut out all common sense. Instinct, greatly supported by the lower parts that on their turn were mainly encouraged by the world’s biggest force named hope, greedily took over. She started running.

-

In the meantime Fenris tried to cope with the unsettling situation in his own way. He almost felt as befuddled as Merrill in her usual state of mind.

Bloody hell what had he done!

The elf was restlessly pacing the room he more or less lived in, all the while cursing himself for his brash and reckless deed. And cursing Hawke along the way. _Venhedis!_ Blasted woman! It was all her fault! Saving his life; what had she been thinking! Bloody hell once more! He groaned loudly and banged his head against a wall. What was it with her that made him feel this way? That made him act like a brainless idiot? He could still sense her warm body pressed into his, taste the hot, sweet flavour of her mouth, smell the intoxicating aroma of her skin and hair ... _Fasta vass!_ He punched said wall with frustrated viciousness.

He had been behaving like an utmost fool. Like some, some ... what was the opposite of a bitch in heat? A wound up obtrusive male hound? Something like that. He cried out in desperation. He had forced himself upon her without any excuse. _Damn_! He should go to her to offer his apologies. At this very moment. But the worst part was that deep in his heart he knew he didn’t want to apologise. The worst part was that what he wanted, _really_ wanted was to have more of her, to have all of her. _Merda!_ No! _Don’t think it!_

He turned sharply at the silent rumour at the entrance to the room. And there she stood, her face flushed, her hair dishevelled, panting heavily as if she had run all the way from the Wounded Coast to his mansion. Her eyes were shining with – what? Fear? Expectation? Hope? Want, even..?

It didn’t matter, she was here; she had come to him and that was all that counted. And she didn’t look like she wanted to scold him. Rather the opposite, if he read her expression well. She might look anxious, and perhaps somewhat frightened but, besides that, definitively more divine than ever. Besides that, he couldn’t deny the heated look she cast upon him through her tousled bangs. Her sheer appearance shook his panicky rambling train of thoughts to an abrupt halt. He stopped thinking altogether and again acted pure on impulse.

Within a heartbeat he closed the distance between them and drew her into his arms. As before she melted against his frame. She didn’t protest when he claimed her mouth again. She didn’t protest when he claimed all of her body this time. And she was all too happy when he carried her to his bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: lots of saucy bits. Well, come to think about it, mainly saucy bits. All in good taste, of course.
> 
> Enjoy!

Part 2: About the exciting things an unexpected kiss can cause

-

She couldn’t believe this was really happening.

Enchanted and driven by his heated kiss she had come to his mansion. It had definitely not been her intention. What she _had_ had in mind was going to the Hanged Man and getting totally wasted after a tough day full of fights in every sense possible and after that blighted scorching kiss from that blighted irresistible elf. But halfway the track back to Kirkwall she had let her lower brain take over once again and she had started running to where her feet and heart – and of course that cursed lower brain – led her. To his place. To him. She wanted an explanation...

Screw that, damn it, and please scratch away the tumbling words along the way. She wanted a repeat. She wanted to taste that heavenly mixture of flavours consisting of wild woods and sunlight and sweet wine again. She wanted to feel his tongue entwined with hers, taking command of her mouth. She wanted to relive the experience of the warmth and strength of his lean yet muscular body pressed against hers again. She wanted to feel his bare smooth skin and that wondrous sleek, soft hair under her fingers. She wanted – Blast!

At first she had been mortally afraid, even when she had started running in a resolute way to reach her goal. To be honest, she had still been afraid when she found herself standing on his doorstep. Afraid? Make that petrified. Especially when she witnessed how he almost thumped his fist through his wall. She had been ready to turn and flee at that moment. She was certain that _he_ was certain he had been making a big mistake. She simply knew he had embraced her – well, grabbed her to be frank, without thinking. What had driven him to that action was still not completely clear to her. What had driven _her_ to end up on his threshold was not clear at all. It had been an impulsive decision, made out of some kind of primal instinct. _Yes, call it that, you coward._ She shrank back and was just one step away from running off. Only her curiosity, or perhaps pleasant shock, made her linger.

Because, in some sort of distant way, she noticed he had taken off his armour and was just clad in a loose tunic and narrow fitting leggings. Added to his wonderful tousled moonlike hair, even more in adorable disarray than ever, and the toned supple muscles that rippled under the fabric, the outcome was – godlike. She had no other description for it. She could hardly breathe and had to hold on to the doorpost.

And then he turned and looked at her. For one moment, that seemed to last an eternity, he stood perfectly still. His mesmerising silvery green eyes widened and the expression on his face changed from upset or aggravated or whatever feeling was pestering him, into mystified. Mystified and utmost surprised. As if he couldn’t believe she was really here. Apparently it was contagious because she realised she reciprocated his gaze in complete astonishment. Like she tried to figure out how the hell she had ended up in this as good as Maker forbidden place. His sanctuary. Which she now trespassed. _Me here, gee, what a surprise, how did that happen, must be magic_. But of course she wasn´t able to utter a single word which was probably for the best.

She couldn’t decide whether he was looking at her in that particular way out of anger or startled happiness but he gave her little time to wonder. Within a heartbeat he stood before her and hauled her into his arms once again. Before she could even consider if she should better decline his attentions and run away after all or go with his flow, she was already responding his kiss. And that was the reason why she’d come here, wasn’t it. Her brainwave – ha ha – hadn’t let her down; this second kiss was even better than the first.

She felt his one hand tangle in her dishevelled hair just above the nape of her neck and the other pressing on the small of her back, pushing her even closer to him. It would have left her breathless if he hadn’t already stolen the air out of her lungs. She wanted to stay like this forever, his arms surrounding her, his fingers touching her in the most fabulous way, her own fingers weaving through that delightful soft white hair, his tongue caressing hers, melting her, letting her surrender to him without a second thought. She didn’t want to think at all, she just wanted to give in to this one pure moment. She wished she were a mage so she could freeze this very one pure moment to let it last forever. He might hate magic but he was certainly working magic on her right now.

And then it even became better.

She had barely been able to take a small gulp of air when he suddenly scooped her up and started to lead them to his bed with just a short break before he started to kiss her again along the way. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his slender waist. She fervently held on to his frame, praying this wasn’t a dream or her vivid imagination playing a cruel trick on her mind. She basked in the excitement of his strong arms holding her, his legs carrying them both to his goal. His intense exhilarating male scent of wild musk with just a tiny hint of sweet jasmine almost drove her wild. She had more or less expected he would throw her onto the mattress in a display of masculine power but instead he sank gently down, still holding her in his arms, still kissing her. His lips had wandered to her throat, grazing her skin in a most delicate manner and now found their way to her ear, nibbling the lobe. She couldn’t move, he had all but caught her in his tender demonstration of both desire and worship.

‘Do you really want this?’ he hoarsely whispered in that exciting low rough velvety voice of his.

‘Yes,’ she croaked, ‘I want this. I want _you_. Please don’t stop.’ That voice drenched in dark sugar, evoking images of hot sultry nights had promised even more fulfilment than his kisses had done. She trembled in anticipation.

She didn’t get disappointed.

He let out a light huff that filled her ear in the most pleasant way possible. ‘I only want to satisfy you,’ he breathed.

‘Then don’t hold back.’

She swallowed hard when his lips once again caressed her throat and after that descended farther down. ‘Please.’

His hands unclasped her leather armour and feathered over her breasts, lightly touching her nipples through the fabric of her undershirt and breast band. She couldn’t stifle the whimper that escaped her mouth. She felt him smile against her skin and revelled in it; a smile gracing his mouth was a rare occasion, worth to treasure. He opened the buttons of her vest and drew the garment down her shoulders and arms to let it pool around her waist. He kissed every inch of exposed skin intensely as if he was exploring new found territory. He reached behind her back and undid the fastening of her breast band with one experienced movement. She didn’t want to know how and where he had learned that little knack. If there had been a former lover she was fine with it, especially if he turned the learned lessons into practice with her.

She held on faster to his shoulders when his hand cupped one of her breasts and his mouth closed over the nipple, stroking the hardened peak with his slow twirling tongue. She let her head lean back and then that same wicked tongue left her chest to travel down south, at first to pause at her belly-button to give that little spot all of his attention. In such a fluent motion she hardly noticed it, he disposed her of her shirt and smalls, leaving her totally nude and vulnerable. She didn’t mind this magical moment; instead she urged him on. In response she arched her back to invite him to her most secret spot and felt his fingers stroll through her soft feminine curls, only to leave them to touch her thighs. She couldn’t help bucking in frustration.

Disregarding his uncertainty he chuckled and his warm breath drifted over her heated skin. ‘Be quiet Marian, calm down. Why so much haste? I will give you what you want. In the end.’ He was astonished by his own words, but this woman drove him to unexpected heights. If only by the trust she put in him.

His words turned her on even more. Fenris _and_ chuckling _and_ calling her by her given name was too good to be true; she was completely on fire by now.

‘What I want is you,’ she tried to say.

But even before she could utter the words the tip of his tongue touched her most sensitive nub and she cried out in ecstasy. He unhurriedly but with the perfect pressure encircled and nibbled her swollen pearl, inevitably pushing her to the edge. If he wanted her to calm down, he was doing a very bad job; the only bad thing about his enthralling ministrations. And the word “bad” was poorly chosen. His teasing fingers wandered over her damp folds and lingered a few tantalising moments at the entrance of her yearning sheath. When he tormenting slowly entered her, never ceasing to lick and softly suck her, she thought she’d die. She lifted her hips to meet his fingers and to encourage him to delve deeper.

This couldn’t be true; any moment now she would wake up in her lonely too large bed to realise it was but a dream. A very vivid one but nevertheless a dream. – And then he touched that spot inside her and without a warning her body responded in an overwhelming orgasm. Her hands clasped in his hair in an attempt to keep a foothold to reality while her body got hurled into a raging fray. Reality? What reality? It _had_ to be dream, it had to. It couldn’t be real that that astounding breathtaking elf was playing with her body as if he had known for years how to drive her insane.

She still couldn’t believe this was really happening.

But if this _was_ a dream she would get the utmost out of it.

Even while the trembling spasms were rippling through her body in the glowing aftermath, he claimed her mouth in another smouldering kiss, letting her taste the results of the heights he had pushed her to, and covered her frame with his naked one. _When the hell had he managed to get rid of his clothes?!_ It didn’t matter. What _did_ matter was that she felt his warm exposed skin upon hers, his perfect chiselled bare chest pressing on her breasts, his legs moving between hers, his hands giving her all kinds of thrilling excitements. More than willingly she opened herself for him.

‘I don’t want to calm down,’ she murmured, ‘for the Maker’s sake Fenris, give me more. I want to feel you inside me. I long for you.’

‘How can I refuse your request,’ he hummed and his maddening voice vibrated through every cell of her body, making each single sinew quiver.

The tip of his hardened length touched her entrance and lingered for a few enticing heartbeats before he buried himself deep inside her with a sudden violent motion. They both gasped. She didn’t have to adjust herself – it seemed as if her body had known his for its entire life and her sheath welcomed him home like a perfect fitting glove. He stared at her open-eyed, his pupils almost black. ‘Fenris!’ she breathed, completely captivated by his blazing look and the feeling of his hard member inside her pulsating wetness.

And then he lost himself completely. The sight of that beautiful woman moving under him, the riveting scent of her arousal mingled with his own, the keening pleading sounds she was making, the feeling of her almost igniting hot sex surrounding his aching shaft... he simply couldn’t help himself. He started a vicious pace and pounded in her as if he was punishing her. She exclaimed his name with delight when her walls almost painfully clamped down on him the moment she reached a new devastating peak. He had no choice than to follow her in the flight to ecstasy. He emptied himself deep inside her with hard, powerful thrusts and collapsed on her frame, panting heavily.

It took a while before he came to his senses, only to realise what he had just done. He panicked. Not because he regretted the feeling of utmost completion, not because he was sorry of climbing the stairway to heaven with this wonderful breath-taking woman. No, he panicked out of the stark fear he had hurt her and insulted her by the brutal way he had taken possession of her.

He heaved his head and looked with remorse at her, resting his hand on her cheek. He swallowed hard. ‘Please don’t be angry with me,’ he pleaded, ‘I behaved –‘

‘Angry with you,’ she echoed in disbelief, cutting him short. ‘Dear Maker, you just gave me the most wonderful sensation of my entire life and you think I would be angry with you?! You daft elf!’ She almost burst out laughing. ‘Oh Fenris.’ She shook her head and he relaxed visibly. His eyes lingered on her lovely face with a veiled look and then he covered her mouth with his and kissed her so tenderly it almost brought her to tears.

‘Marian,’ he said softly, ‘I don’t know where this will lead to. I honestly don’t know. The only thing I do know is that I want to be with you right now.’

She smiled and touched his lips. ‘For now that’s good enough for me,’ she whispered, ‘just keep calling me Marian.’

He gave her a warm smile back and then kissed her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, no, it won't end in tears. As I pointed out in the summory, there will be no stupid end like in the game. About which, by the way, Origin should be ashamed. Like in hiding their heads and then some. I will stop talking now before it becomes too offensive. (Like how they gave us such tasty bits in Origin and then in the Inquisition but left us nothing regarding Fenris. The bastards!)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last part of the prelude. 
> 
> As I promised: no tears!
> 
> Enjoy!

Part 3: The morning after ... (all that happened because of a hot kiss and the consequences)

-

Hawke got drawn out of her sleep because of the soft yet disturbing sound of patting feet restlessly pacing the room. She sat up, a little groggy, and immediately missed the warmth of a body next to her. To be exact: the body of the mindboggling handsome and overwhelming elf that had made incredible love to her last night in the most amazing and dazzling way. She ran short on superlatives.

She was just in time to see Fenris thumping the wall. Again. And he was dressed. That was not a good sign. Nothing about the scene was good. He ought to be lying next to her in glorious nudity, only dressed in his lyrium markings, nuzzling her, fondling her or at least being asleep with his arms around her. The grogginess dissolved in an instant and got replaced by nasty little icy fingers that plucked at her innards. She covered herself with a blanket, not just to hide her nakedness but also because she suddenly grew very cold.

‘What’s wrong?’

He turned sharply, evidently startled by her voice. His moon-like hair fell into his face and he wiped it out of his eyes with an impatient gesture. ‘You’re awake,’ he stated the obvious. His voice sounded alarmingly strained; the rough velvet had descended a few notches on the staff of sensuality and was definitely bathing in dark sugar right now. It could have aroused her if the circumstances had been different.

‘Yes I am,’ she said carefully, ‘but that’s not an answer to my question.’

Fenris screwed his eyes shut and pressed his lips. He was visibly struggling with his answer. ‘It’s – ‘ he started and failed miserably. He swallowed and tried anew. ‘My memories returned.’

She stared at him, not exactly understanding, or better not understanding at all, or better even not _willing_ to understand what he meant. Not if it led to this kind of unsettling behaviour. ‘Your memories..?’

He snapped his eyes open. ‘The memories from before the markings. You know I lost everything with – the ritual. When Danarius...’ He swallowed again. Hard. With a rough, anxious sounding voice he continued, ‘And last night it all suddenly came back to me.’ He paused. Marian was about to say she missed the gravity of his distress, since as long as she knew him he wanted to have those memories back. But before she could vent her rather airily and painfully nonchalant remark he continued. ‘And then they escaped me.’

Hawke closed her already opened mouth in shock, trying to absorb the full significance of his words. Fenris took a shivering breath. He struggled desperately while he made a stuttering attempt to explain.‘I saw ... I heard ... everything ... faces and words ... I recognised ... people and places.’ He grew frustrated with his inability to express himself properly.  ‘And then nothing,’ he ended wretchedly. ‘It all slipped away in an instant. I tried to hold on but couldn’t. Everything went blank again.’ He looked like an example of utter and total desolation. ‘Nothing. It was gone. I don’t know why this happened, it never did before.’ He hung his head and his face got covered with his silken white bangs.

Hawke restrained herself from running out of bed to wipe those bangs out of his face. To hug him and give him all her strength and comfort and love. To hold him close for the rest of her life.

Her heart bled when she looked at his tormented face. ‘And now?’ she asked in a very small voice, dreading the worst beforehand. She wanted to smack herself for her easy thoughts, not moments earlier. What did she know about his agony? About the real pain he had suffered and the impact of the loss of memory? About his inner fight to win back just a tiny piece of who he had been before Danarius happened, to see a glimpse of the people he had been with? His family. His loved-ones. It must have been a hard blow to retrieve those recollections and lose them at the same time. And yes, she feared the worst and to her dismay got put in the right the very minute.

‘I can’t go on with this,’ he whispered. ‘I so badly want to but I can’t. The thought I’ll have to cope with this ordeal every time I, we –‘ She thought he would break down but one way or another he managed to keep the tears at bay. ‘It’s just too much. Please forgive me.’ He averted his eyes and stared at his feet.

She bit her lip, forcefully trying to fight back her own tears that threatened to overflow her eyes. She could taste them in her throat. She clenched her fists into the blanket. Win and loss ... She had longed for him, immensely; she had won him and now was about to lose him. Over memories. Oh yes, she knew about memories, the good ones but certainly also the bad. Bethany ... Carver ... her mother ... some memories should stay in the past, never to rear their ugly heads. He surely didn’t have any experience with that kind of memories, not with the ones that handled the loss of loved-ones. There were definitely no ogres spooking in his head. He was craving for love and understanding and being cared for but at the same time didn’t grasp the full impact of those feelings. And he absolutely and without any doubt didn’t comprehend she was more than willing to give him all he so badly needed. Instead he was so hung up with what happened to him that he was on the point of denying last night and by doing so ripping the heart out of her chest, in the poetic way. Yes indeed, it sounded very ironical.

‘I knew I was dreaming,’ she said with a choked voice, ‘it was too good to be true. I only wished I really woke up alone in my own bed instead of being punched in the gut.’ She didn’t have to look up to see he was hurt by what she said. And she cursed herself for it. The last thing he needed right now were more feelings of pain and guilt. She hated herself for uttering those words and yet at the same time a spark of anger sputtered into life.

‘ _Venhedis_ ,’ she heard him mutter and then he moved to the bed. She could feel him standing nearby, damn, she could _smell_ him. That arousing scent of tantalizing musk with that hint of sweet jasmine came wafting to her and surrounded her, adding to her deep consuming sadness. He didn’t sit down however, he kept his distance. _Of course he did._ He actually extended his hand to touch her but changed his mind the very moment. His arm dropped. ‘I’m so sorry Hawke; I never wanted to hurt you. But I really can’t do this.’

_Hawke_. Could it get any worse?

She hid her face in her pulled up knees and stifled a desperate sob.

And then the just kindled sudden flash of anger struck her, struck her hard. And became a burning if not blazing flame. The anger she had tried to hold back violently flared up. For his sake and hers. And, no matter how hard she tried or wished to, now she was no longer _able_ to hold back. It was as if a lightning bolt struck her and like all lightning bolts it struck like an erratic missile with unpredictable result. What the fuck was he thinking, was he doing?! Denying himself? Denying her? Denying all the feelings that as an unknown and uninvited but more than welcome guest suddenly had surfaced and he fervently tried to bury beneath his fear? To suffocate them both? With a jerk she heaved her head and looked at him with burning eyes. He was so shocked by this abrupt change of demeanour he instinctively took two steps back. She looked as if she was about to erupt and tear his throat out.

‘You complete and utter idiot!’ she seethed. ‘You gave me the best experience of my life, and I will call you a liar if you don’t feel the same on your behalf, and because of your fucking memories you’re willing to put an end to it?! Just like that?! You must be out of your bloody mind! Instead of thinking about the advantages of _and_ making love to me _and_ getting your memories back at the same time, you bask in self-pity. You’re too willing to disregard my feelings and at the same time you squander yours!’ _Yes, stupid awful memories, try to ignore them and they come back to bite you in the ass. Try to cope with_ that _, you ignorant moron. You ignorant, irresistible plagued tortured wonderful elf._ She deflated but fought against it. This was not the moment to give in. She straightened her shoulders and her look became even more resolute.

He wanted to react but she cut him short before he could utter a word, venting her own frustrations with force in an almost overwhelming dark rumbling timbre.

‘Shut up! I don’t want to hear your stupid arguments! Try to live with _my_ memories! My memories of losing the ones you care for!’

He was so intimidated by her large flaming eyes and low threatening voice that he snapped his mouth shut and took another step back. At the same time he remembered the horrible scene back in the Deep Roads. Where she had had to kill her own sister. And that other no less horrible occurrence, more recently, how her mother was murdered. Slaughtered. Of course he knew that memories could be awful; he had plenty of that kind, enough to fill a lifetime with nightmares. But in a flash he saw what she was trying to make clear: even memories that should be good could turn into horrifying demons that pursued your every step and waited around the corner to pounce upon you. Wonderful memories polluted by bad endings. Before he got a chance to utter his understanding, however, or say something considerate or say anything at all, like, indeed, memories could be bad but a person should at least have the right and capability to have them, she cut him short once again. And all he could do was numbly look at her.

Hawke took up courage. And, if possible, went even more angry; it was as if all of her frustrations surfaced at once in one mighty explosion. ‘Do you think you are the only one here haunted by memories? I damn well know the ones you have are all terrible. I have some of my own. Do I have to remind you of the dreadful death of my siblings, of the awful end of my mother?’

His breath caught. _Please don’t._

’I ever so often wished I could get rid of those and I bet you do the same when you remember that gruesome Magister of yours and his as evil apprentice and what they did to you.’

Now he grew rigid. _Please stop._

But of course she remorselessly went on. She only paused to take in a gulp of air but he didn’t dare to interrupt her rant. He just stared at her. Completely captivated. When she spoke again she thankfully answered his silent plea to let go of those two – tormentors. He wasn’t certain it made things better. She simply went on crushing him and he had no choice than to let her continue.

‘And now other memories pop up, memories from before your predicament and times of agony, memories of times you think must have been happy. Why? They can as well turn out to be even worse than the ones you have. You just long for something better. You want to convince yourself that your life before Danarius happened was all sunshine, roses and butterflies.’

Despite, or perhaps because of the harsh truth her words held, he desperately wanted to interrupt her as yet, but she already had heaved her hand and that didn’t give him the chance. Besides that his voice refused to operate. He just cringed and let her words wash over him like some kind of last conviction. ‘Yes, I know what you want to say. For bad or good, you want to know who your parents were, if you had a brother or sister. What they looked like. If they were slaves or could live their lives in freedom. Where you spent the years before Danarius ensnared you. If you were born into slavery or as a free man. And believe me, I understand those are important issues. You are entitled to know the answers to those questions. But are they important enough to leave me? To ignore your feelings for me, to brush aside the love I carry for you? To reject me?’

And now he couldn’t even _find_ words. Mostly because she had perfectly described how he felt. He just stuck with staring at her. And yes, still captivated. It would have been better if she had yelled at him; yelling he could have handled. Yelling he even could have disregarded. But instead she spoke in that low gravelly tone that paralyzed him and nailed him down; telling him about her own grief, laying bare his. He suddenly felt very humble. She knew about losses, knew about the unbearable pain. And he had been all too willing to overlook her feelings, to think she wouldn’t understand him.  But of course she did. He should have known better. The insight struck him with the force of a battering ram but she didn’t give him the time to recuperate.

‘You have a choice here,’ she resumed with that hypnotizing dark husky voice. ‘You can fuck me senseless and take the risk of regaining the pieces of your past and losing them at the same time, or be a total jackass and lose also _me_ because of your obsession. And who knows, by keeping fucking me senseless you will gather in the end all those pieces you so desperately search for and be content or completely unhappy with the result. _You have a choice,_ you blighted idiot. Don’t go and throw it all away!’

She stopped talking and heroically swallowed back her tears because tears wouldn’t make him see her point of view.

For a few long stretched moments he just stood, trying to regain his wits, trying to make sense of the turmoil in his head that her words had caused. _Imagination – family – fuck that, she killed her own sister, was_ forced _to kill her own sister – what am I whining about ... Merda!_ And then his eyes flew open. _The love I carry for you..?_ His breath hitched. Did she really love him? Did she really love him so much she was willing to throw the harsh truth in his face to make him see..?

He fought a fierce battle with himself, hesitating about what to do. Leaving her, let alone hurting her, were options that hadn’t even existed the other day. And now, here he was, about to do just that. On the other hand, he was afraid he would completely break down when those blasted memories would pester him once more. He had hit rock bottom and the only way was up. But the question was, up where?

And then she started to leave the bed and he acted without further thinking. He took a quick step forward and it was as if he broke through a barrier. He hurled himself onto the bed and pulled her into his arms. This woman who so perfectly had put his dreads and desires into words and at the same time had made her feelings for him very transparent didn’t deserve to be hurt, let alone to be abandoned. He didn’t want to abandon her. What they had shared had come as a complete surprise. But it had made clear, very clear, how he felt about her. What he felt for her. Abandoning her was no option. Had never been an option, after she had turned up in his room, even with those cursed memories trampling on the threshold of his hopes. She had come for him, after that sudden kiss, and had made his suppressed dream come true. That was all that mattered. The only thing that was really important. He might not know about his past, but she, right now, represented his future.  

Before she could start talking again and strip his feelings and fears completely to the bone, he covered her mouth with his and kissed her with all the warm passion he could muster.

Marian gasped and at first couldn’t react. But then she answered the kiss, clinging on to his frame like a drowning person. His lips brushed away the tears that finally began to flow.

‘You are right,’ he whispered hoarsely, ‘I am a fool and I don’t want to lose you. It would be a double loss.’ He hesitated for a moment, gathering his thoughts. ‘All you said was true and I am so sorry. I hurt you. You didn’t deserve it.’ And then he kissed her again. Desperately. ‘I will try to live with whatever my mind comes up with to haunt me. For you.’ He cupped her face. ‘For us.’ He had never sounded more sincere in his entire life. It almost frightened him. But she had accomplished the near impossible. She had won his trust.

Marian was too overwhelmed with relief and at the same time too busy with undressing him to respond properly. She urgently needed to feel the warmth and comfort of his bare warm skin. She badly wanted him in her arms, wanted him to be hers again. Wanted to be certain he really _was_ hers. The only suffocated grumble she could manage, sounded something between a stifled sniff and some kind of appreciating moan while she was tearing his shirt and sinfully sexy leggings off his body. But when she had got him naked again and he made a serious effort of putting his hands on every part of her body at once, she suddenly hesitated and drew back.

He looked up from the nipple he was devouring. ‘Now _you_ are getting seconds thoughts..?’ His heart plummeted into his stomach.

‘No,’ she panted, ‘but I want you to make this grave decision without me shouting at you. Perhaps you should think it over more thoroughly. I want you to – out of your own – oh hell.’ His mouth had moved to the crook of her shoulder and he gave her a heated lovebite that shot hot bolts to her centre.

‘You didn’t shout,’ he murmured.

‘Please Fenris, if you think you need time –‘

He attacked her mouth to stop her from uttering more idiotic words. ‘I don’t need time, I need you.’

-

When they slowly started to wake up, three days later, they were more or less surprised they had ended up in his bed. It had been three wonderful days – and nights, filled with lovemaking, quick simple meals the pantry’s meagre supplies provided, lovemaking, some bottles of wine, lovemaking, a few inevitable catnaps, lovemaking and after that more lovemaking. The bed was all but ruined, the floor was littered with cushions, blankets, empty bottles and leftovers; the chairs were pushed all over the room due to their frenzy; the side table in the hall was badly molested because Fenris had more or less threw her upon the piece of fragile furniture on their way to the kitchen to find something to eat and Hawke knew they sooner or later had to clean up the mess in that same kitchen after they had been making hot love on the cold stove, on the counter and the kitchen table, scattering plates and cups and pots all around. A broad grin appeared on her face at the lively picture in her head.

She tried to move but their bodies were so entangled that it was a hard job to puzzle out which limb belonged to whom and how to free any of them. She gave up. She felt worn down, battered and bruised and was certain she wouldn’t be able to walk properly for quite a time. And she felt rosy and warm and absolutely, utterly, insanely happy. She nuzzled Fenris’ neck. ‘What time is it?’ she wondered drowsily.

The elf didn’t bother with raising his head. ‘I don’t even know what day it is,’ he mumbled, ‘and you know what, I don’t care.’ She giggled and tickled his throat with her breath. She planted a kiss on his skin and softly nibbled his ear.

‘Hmm,’ he hummed, ‘do that again.’ He lazily lifted a hand and tenderly caressed her arm and back. It was quite a wonder he had been able to free the limb and remove it out of the intricate tangled knot.

‘Do you think we could manage to make some coffee?’ she asked, immensely enjoying the feeling of his fingers tracing her bare skin. She groaned softly.

‘No,’ Fenris said determinedly, ‘I won’t be able to make it to the kitchen. Not again.’

‘Right. No coffee then.’

‘I can offer you some wine. That is if I could reach the bottle. Which I cannot.’

‘Just leave it,’ she murmured. Her eyes fell shut and she started to drift off.

His memories had returned and vanished again several times. He hadn’t wanted to tell her, but of course she had sensed it. She had just listened to his stumbled words and kissed his tension away. He had to admit that now he was prepared, the experience was less overwhelming than the first time when it caught him completely off guard. He still couldn’t grasp why it happened at all, though slow but sure he began to suspect it had something to do with Hawke, Marian. With her personality, with his feelings for her; with her feelings for him. With the symbiosis they shared for one reason or another. As far as he knew he had never been in love before, not in the strong passionate way in which he cared for her. He had denied that for a long time, or perhaps it was better to say he hadn’t recognized it. Until that day on the Wounded Coast, that day she saved his life and he showed his gratitude by almost killing her. Until he lost his control with that sweltering kiss. Only then he had realised he was madly in love with her. He turned his head to look at her. Under the mess of tousled hair her face glowed with warm bliss and contentment. It made him think of a purring cat lying in the warm sunlight. An affectionate, loving smile unfolded on his face.

As if she felt his expression she cracked one eye open. ‘What? Why are you smiling like you’re about to do something totally inappropriate?’ she asked suspiciously.

‘More inappropriate than what I’ve done over the past days?’ He laughed, a low resonating sound that thrilled her and filled her with want. And not for the first time. ‘No, my love. I smile because you look absolutely adorable.’ He kissed the tip of her nose.

‘Yeah right; hair like a birds nest, I bet that stupid stove left its soot on my bottom if not on the rest of my body and on the whole I’m in a desperate need of a bath. I dread what my image in a mirror looks like. Really adorable.’ She snickered against his chest. And then “my love” hit home. Her eyes flew open. _My love?? Had he really said that??_

‘Did I say something wrong?’ Seeing her near panicking expression he suddenly sounded concerned.

‘You didn’t say anything wrong. You said “my love”,’ she breathed, fighting back sudden tears. Her emotions tried to get the best of her, she was deeply moved and with reason. Coming from him “My love” was as much as a perfect declaration of commitment as it could get. Despite all the passionate and devoted lovemaking of the past days, it caught her offhand. He loved her. He really _loved_ her. ‘I don’t know if you catch the significance of those two simple words,’ she whispered.

He chortled softly but looked serious when he framed her face. ‘I certainly do, don’t think it was said on a whim.’ He took in her startled expression and near tears and realised how much she meant to him. And at the same time realised she affected him as much as he did her. She made him see the reason of life. The reason to live on. She had given him worth, she gave him purpose. He smiled lovingly which took her breath away. And then he spoke words that crushed her heart. In the good way.

’Your angry rant was a real eye-opener. For the first time since I can remember I find my life makes sense and I am glad to live it. As long as you stay in it.’

‘That’s the sweetest thing someone ever said to me,’ Hawke whispered, deeply moved.

‘I’m yours,’ he rumbled with that breathtaking low voice that vibrated through her every single sinew.

His lips descended on hers and his tongue took possession of her mouth. With some difficulties they managed to disentangle their bodies only to entwine them in another way. Again.

-

_Several hours later..._

‘Love?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Are you still alive?’

‘I think so. Why?’

‘Will you still be alive tomorrow?’

‘That depends; what are you planning?’

‘Loving you like mad.’

‘Oh. Good. Wake me up when you’re up to that.’

‘I will.’

‘Capital.’

‘And after that a bath.’

‘Definitely.’

And finally they both fell into a deep sleep, completely exhausted but intensely gratified.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> More chapters will follow, because, of course, the ensemble of bickering friends have a thing or two to say about this! 
> 
> (And, as I feared, the "last notes" of chapter one are following me around as some kind of creepy spectre. Please tell me how to get rid of that!)

**Author's Note:**

> Frankly, I'm reluctant to write anything here, because I simply know every word will follow me along every new chapter. (By the way, does anyone have a solution for this annoying phenominon?)
> 
> However, thank you for reading!


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